


Is the future bright?

by dontfeedthewolfy



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Erica Reyes, Alive Vernon Boyd, Alpha Derek, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Children, Domestic, Family Dynamics, Flash Forward, Future Fic, Harpies, In later chapters - Freeform, Jackson Never Left, M/M, Magic!Stiles, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Meet the Family, Mutually Unrequited, POV Derek, POV Stiles, Post-Season/Series 03A AU, Slow Build, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Smut, again sorta, at first, magical mishap, potential for gore, sterek happens, woke up married sorta
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-28
Updated: 2013-02-17
Packaged: 2017-11-27 06:30:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/658943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontfeedthewolfy/pseuds/dontfeedthewolfy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A lot has happened in three years, but some things remain the same. Why is it that no one ever listens to Stiles? He has good plans really he does. The thing is Derek just wants to keep him safe. Why can't he see that? Everything is turned on end when they end up six years in the future, with no idea what's going on. The funny thing is that their married, though they weren't even dating. Just figuring out that little puzzle might be hard enough except that it's not their only issue. In fact it looks like rainbows and butterflies compared to the Harpies that are dead set on reeking havoc. Word on the street is they are gunning for Stiles. Why you might ask? Only because he is the force to be reckoned with in Beacon Hills, the strongest of them all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wake

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [anything, anything](https://archiveofourown.org/works/562294) by [drunktuesdays](https://archiveofourown.org/users/drunktuesdays/pseuds/drunktuesdays). 



> Well hello there! I’m Isaac. You are about to read one of the fan based works in my collection. I am a LGBTQA+ writer. Generally I choose to ignore canon and acquire representation. I try to do this in the most natural means possible. Perhaps this isn’t as prevalent in the fanfic community but queer representation is minimal. So as a member of this community and an aspiring novelist I want to write from these character perspectives, and give my readers the chance to see aspects of them selves in there favorite fandoms (and eventually within my own original worlds), or at least give a different voice than what is usually heard. I like the idea of telling stories about queer characters in which their gender identity or sexuality is not the driving force of the story. They are characters that happen to be queer not characters that their plot centers around them being queer. 
> 
> As always I enjoy your feed back greatly and thank you for reading the things that seem to keep pouring out of my head. If you enjoy this you can follow me on tumblr ( www.queerrainbowwarrior.tumblr.com ) and twitter( @Qrainbowwarrior ) for updates regarding up coming works, both fanfic and original (as well as my ongoing personal dribble). If you are interesting in see some o my writing that isn’t fiction check out my blog at:
> 
> A special thanks goes out to Tink (http://www.fanfiction.net/~beforeximxdead), for doing the beta work on this, and being an endless source of muse. When I read Anything, anything I couldn't get this concept out of my head. Part of me kept wondering what it would have been like if the future wasn't as nice, if there was more to deal with beyond just the two of them. So this is the product of too much thinking.
> 
> I have started up work on this again after being a failure and letting it sit forever. It so odd going back because now that we have more canon information than when I wrote this. Some of the things I wrote then echo in canon in strange ways. Look forward to new chapters coming soon.

Derek rakes his hands through his hair. At this point he’s too irritated to even care that it’s sticking out at odd angles, it’s not like Stiles does. He’s been keeping his long for years now, and isn’t able to accomplish anything but the ‘I just got out of bed’ look -and no Derek is not going to think about it anymore beyond that, because no he’s just not-. “I’ve told you a thousand times. It’s an idiot move to charge in at them like that.” It comes out growling and angry, through gritted teeth. He doesn’t know whether or not Stiles can see through it. The truth is that he’s genuinely worried. Being Derek, he just doesn’t how to say it so that doesn’t come off a little too harsh.

“Lydia almost died,” Stiles’ voice raises and his brows start to knit together. They are defiantly spending too much time together, he is actually starting to pick up Derek’s habits. The Alpha can’t decide if that’s a good or a very bad thing. Either way it twists at his gut, sends a rush of… something through his system. Something that makes him want to argue a little less.

“And you still have feelings for her. You shouldn’t let that cloud your judgment.” He says it like it’s a point of fact, hoping the jealous bite he can feel in his chest isn’t bleeding through. Shielding himself, he raises his hand to crack his neck, and unfortunately releasing exactly none of the tension in the muscles. That same hand comes up and rubs the creases in his forehead as though he could get a headache from sheer frustration.

“It’s not like that. I don’t feel like that about her anymore. How would you feel if they hurt Isaac like that?” He can see that Stiles is starting to get flustered. It’s a little tell he’s picked up over the years, and something he probably wouldn’t notice if he didn’t put so much attention into noticing things about Stiles. It’s a flush of red in his cheeks, not blushing exactly, and his tongue starts acting like it has a mind of it’s own.

“They did. Worse actually.” Derek sneers his lip, shaking his head. The comment is quick and clipped. Each breath is coming in too fast. He can feel the tension grow, like the air itself laden with it.

“I mean if he couldn’t heal. Damn it, Derek! Why do you have to turn everything around on me? This would all be so much easier if you’d just listened.” This time it’s Stiles that’s stepping forward in anger. Inches separate them now instead of feet, but Derek isn’t backing away.

“Why don’t you get Scott to help you if you’re so determined?” It’s yet another point of jealousy. After Scott became a true Alpha, Stiles became a part of his pack, not Derek’s. Much like the former Hale pack, it didn’t matter that he was human. It made sense, really it did. They were friends, and had been long before Derek was ever in the picture. Still he had hoped that maybe after everything they had been through, all the times they had saved each other that…. Well clearly he was wrong, not that he had ever vocalized the sentiment.

“Because he won’t listen to me either! Neither one of you have any foresight at all! The future’s gonna be a really dark place if you keep this up. Uh-huh! You’ll see!” Stiles is doing that thing where he jerks his head around to punctuate his annoyance with this manic little laugh behind his word. It looks like he is just about to storm off, but instead his eyes start drooping so heavy Derek might think he hasn’t slept in days. Knowing Stiles, that wouldn’t be too outside the realm of possible except that Derek can feel the same weight pressing on him.

A hazy smoke slowly starts filling his mind. He brings the heels of his palms to rest on his temples, pushing in hopes of gaining clarity. It’s to no avail. His thoughts and senses are quickly blotted out by the heavy essence. He thinks to panic, to fight, but it’s too late. Whatever this is, has pulled him under too quickly. He’s sinking, but it’s only the fear that makes it unpleasant. Faintly, he can feel a pressure in his sinuses, something from outside his head pushing in. He remembers feeling it a few times before, but his head is too foggy to place it.

He starts to come back around slowly, in stuttered stages. His senses restore themselves first, which shouldn’t be too much of a surprise. Instantly his nose calls out the change. Two things are different; one is missing, and the other is well, it shouldn’t be that strong or that well integrated. The first being an absence of the constant cover of ash and wet wood that is everything the Hale house has become. The other, while he doesn’t really want to admit it, is Stiles.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

When consciousness finally starts to come around again Stiles is slumped on a couch a little too plush to be the one from home. He opens hazy eyes to find Derek’s arm slung over his shoulder, and his own head rested in the nook of his arm. A TV flickers softly in the background playing a monster movie Stiles has seen more times than he can count. Just as he is becoming aware of his surroundings, he can hear the heart beat in his ear start to pick up. In a flail of arms and torso he is up, back pressed to the other side of the couch.

“What did you do?” Stiles demands. Panicked, he starts looking around. There is something familiar about everything, he can’t put his finger on it. His clothes are different, a pair a blue plaid pajama pants and a ‘Spider-man’ tee shirt. Derek’s is in something not too different, expect that his is in shades of black and gray. Really does he not own something in a less soul sucking color?

“Me? How on earth would I have done this?!?” Derek snaps, agitation settling into the wolf’s words. The muscles in his nose start to twitch like they do just before he shifts. Stiles is a little surprised when he reins himself in, and his eyes start darting around the room.

The house is well kept, but has a distinctly homey feel. There is something about the arched doorways, the layout in general, he knows this place. “Wait is this still your house?”

Derek’s demeanor starts to calm into something closer to worry than anger. “Yeah, I think so, but it looks more like it did … before. Something’s different… changed.”

“Well how did we get here, where ever here-” he cut to an abrupt pause. “Wait you don’t think that I?” Because the more he thinks about it the more he is sure this has to be magic. A body swap, or dimension swap, he isn’t really sure. It’s not like he’s done anything even close to this, but unlike Derek he has done magic. If the house looks like it did before -he stumbles on the words even in his own mind- the fire, then maybe they’re in the past. Then that doesn’t seem right. Trailing his gaze back to Derek, he notes that he looks different. Older actually, though not old. If anything he’s more attractive, which Stiles isn’t allowed to think, really he isn’t.

“I don’t know what I think. It smells…” he cuts off though it's clear there is something on the tip of his tongue. Stiles wonders if he’s doing the Derek thing where he knows something and is just refusing to say or if words are truly failing him.

“Smells what? Bad? Weird?… Good? Come on give me something, I don’t have those wolfy senses remember.” The sharp wit snap is back in his tone, though the present situation is more concerning than the argument from what felt like just moments before.

“Familiar maybe. I can’t figure it out.” There is a hard set of lines around his eyes, like he is focusing with everything he has.

“Geez dude, relax or your going to break something.” This earns Stiles one of the famous Derek Hale sideways death glares, that he so isn’t afraid of anymore. Nope, not even a little.

Lifting himself off the couch, he turns on his heels and starts snooping around. The layout is the same, and he’s been there enough in the last three years to know. Which is admittedly a little sad, and maybe he pays too much attention to things centering around… he cuts off the train of thought refusing to take himself down that road even in his own head. The guy clearly hates him, no matter how many times he has saved his furry butt. They had been fighting not two minutes ago, unless well whatever had happen had- Had what? He wasn’t even sure they were in the same universe let alone the same time. The whole thing was giving him a head ache, like a really bad one.

“Stiles are you alright? I can smell blood.” The words are no sooner out of Derek’s mouth before Stiles feels it. The thick metallic ping fills his mouth as it runs down his face.

“Nose bleed,” he says, trying to answer as he tilts his head backwards. He’s a little surprised when Derek’s rough hands are on his shoulders turning him around. “Hey what’s the big idea?” he snaps, but is quickly ushered into a hall bathroom without a word.

Like the rest of the house it too is fresh and new, but has a feeling akin to home. Even with a human nose that is currently not at peak performance he can smell the traces of body wash and how it has thickened with a clammy humidity over years of use. Derek pushes him so he is leaning against the cold granite of the sink, and grabs a wet rag. As he is cleaning up the blood running down his face, he grabs his chin. Tilting his head from one side to the other as though he might be able to see what caused it. “Dude it’s just a nose bleed. I’m fine.” He’s head is still spinning a little, but it’s not a lie.

“Do you get these often?” His calloused fingers are still holding the rag in place. It's warm, and so are his hands. Stiles could move to hold it for himself, but he doesn’t. Instead he opts to stand there looking Derek straight in the eyes. Were they always that green?

“Not really. S’not a big deal though,” he is trying to play nonchalant. He really is, but it’s endlessly hard to focus with Derek this close.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

“It doesn’t matter, it’s late. Let’s just go to bed and we'll figure it out in the morning.” Stiles has been arguing with him the whole time he was trying to get his nose to stop bleeding. Which is really counter productive.

“Are you serious?” Stiles says, starting to protest yet again. That wide eyed panicked look painted all over his face. Derek eyes him up and down, brow drawn before speaking.

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” He does his best to hold his features firm, the poker face he has employed more times that he can count. Most of which have been since he lost Laura not just as his Alpha but his sister. She had been all Derek had left, and once she was gone, it felt like nothing would ever be easy again. He had managed, became an Alpha, and eventually one he could be proud to be. It didn’t make him feel any less alone. His family was all gone, and pack or not he had no one to care about him like that. Maybe that’s why this place, what ever it was, didn’t bother him like it should. This was his house, and somehow something had happened to make it feel like a home again.

Derek is a little surprised when Stiles just follows him down the hall. The house is big, and he had expected him to storm off in the other direction. They both are worn down, and seem to be running on auto pilot. At the very least Derek knows what all these rooms use to be, before the fire, and that is enough to hint at what they are now. He swallows hard standing in front of what was once his bedroom. A deep sigh pulls at his nerve tight lungs, and he doesn’t even bother to hide it. Part of him expects to see a burned out husk on the other side, even though the state of the rest of the house tells him that’s illogical.

Inside though, it’s bright and warm. Even if it’s a bit messy it’s still comfortably furnished. Nothing about it reminds him of what it had been in his youth. That makes it less painful. In fact he can’t help thinking that it feels like home. That’s something he hasn’t felt in a long time. Hollowness in his chest aches as he takes in a few breaths that smell like a perfect mix of himself and Stiles.

“If we are the only two people living here, and by the quiet I’m guessing we are, there might not be a lot of actual bedrooms,” he sort of trails off, leaving the comment hanging in the air. It’s a weak thinly veiled excuse. Why exactly is he doing this to himself? Is this not setting himself up for failure? Even the moment of contemplation isn’t enough to stop him from trying. Three years, he has never once pushed. So far he just let things fall the way they were going to. He knew what he wanted, but that didn’t mean he had to force it down Stiles’ throat. Tonight though, here in this place, things felt different. So much so that he was willing to make a bold move. “Look, the bed is big so why don't you just…”

“Are you implying we sleep together?” Derek looks up, not realizing he had been staring at his feet. What he sees takes a good portion of the air out of his lungs. Stiles has this lop-sided smile planted on his face. Each breath is causing his nostrils to flare, and there is just the faintest hint of a blush behind his cheeks.

“Not like that,” he says backpedaling and silently cursing himself for it. His voice is as conflicted as his emotions are; frustration, annoyance -mostly at himself-, and something more that makes his heart surge in his chest. It makes him thankful that Stiles isn’t a wolf so the little infliction is his alone.

“From the looks of it we kind of already do, or at least the us that- is- from- this-” he breaks at each word, clearly not sure what he’s trying to say. “I mean my stuff is all over this room, and not just mine cause…” he says lifting a bundle of fabric with his bare foot. “Boxer briefs aren’t really my style.”

Derek snatches the underwear from him with inhuman speed, scowl planted firm on his face. “I can’t say I pegged you for the tighty-whities type,” he snaps back tossing the now balled up clothes at a hamper in the corner.

“I hear they’re making a come back, all the rage on the Paris runways, and wait! Does that mean you’re thinking about my underwear?” he teases, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Just go to bed Stiles.”


	2. Know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again beta-ed by the ever lovely Tink who I adore. Originally this and the next chapter were one but this on took on a life of it's own. It's all Derek just so you're prepared, he comes more naturally for me so that's what happened. Thank you everyone for the kudos and bookmarks and I hope you are enjoying the ride.

The air is filled with a fine powder of white. It plays in the erratic wind seeming to dance around Derek’s stationary form. Distantly he thinks he should be cold, that the arctic chill should burn at the exposed skin of his chest. However he just feels hazy, like he is surrounded in an invisible fog. One that folds around his body, holding him still, and yes, protecting him. The storm casts a calm on the forest scene, but there is an uncomfortable pull of anxiety at Derek’s gut. It surges through him despite his inability to move.

 

As if by some act of will, like a force that knows tension is boiling nervously in his gut, there is a hand on his shoulder. The finger grasp is soft as if the toucher might fear one of them breaking under anything involving more pressure. If Derek is honest with himself, he feels breakable, vulnerable like he hasn’t in years. It brings him to turn all the same, facing the body to which the hand belongs. He shouldn’t be surprised that it's Stiles, really he shouldn’t.

 

All hope of finding reassurance in the gaze he meets is shattered instantly. Stiles held a look of horror, like he had seen the worst of the world and some how lived to tell the tale. He too, is shirtless despite the freezing weather. Covering his arms and chest are glowing red tattoo like marks. Each is the color of Derek’s alpha eyes and range in size and symbology. From books he has read, some are familiar even if he can’t place an exact meaning. Others are completely foreign. One he knows though, if nothing else, because it’s his. Perhaps that’s not wholly true. He can’t really claim it as his alone, but marking Stiles skin the way that it is, it feels like his. His triskele, darker than the others, striking on Stiles’ shoulder.

 

Still the more pressing issue is the fact that from his elbows down, Stiles’ arms are covered in thick dripping blood. The marks still glow from underneath it, but it paints his pale skin in an unnatural way. It drips down from his fingers, as he holds them out from his body, like he is afraid of himself. Each drop lands on the undisturbed snow, bright crimson and stark white contrast. Looking in his eyes it’s as though Derek can see his own guilt, the kind that hasn’t gone away no matter how many years he has lived with it, placed on Stiles’ face. “Am I a monster?” he chokes. It’s a question Derek use to ask himself over and over again. It’s strange hearing it voiced on someone elses lips. He can’t bring himself to answer, not that there is one readily available. He feels thick and sluggish as he tries to move forward, to break the spell, to get to Stiles.

 

It’s Stiles that reaches out leaving a bloody smear on Derek’s arm. The skin contact is jarring like a jolt of electric shock running a course through his veins. His breathing is stilted and reality starts to focus in around him. The bedroom slowly becomes more real as the forest fades from his mind’s eye.

 

Stiles is not very good at sharing a bed, or arguably he is very good at it. It’s a comfort he never expected, being tangled up in the human’s embrace while recovering from the torment his subconscious had dragged him through. It’s usually the fire or Laura that haunt his dreams, and he couldn’t shake the odd sensation surrounding the nightmare. He swallows hard, shifting only slightly when he notices he isn’t the only one awake or at least in the process of waking.

 

As he looks down at Stiles’ waking form he notices that he can still see the glowing marks he had thought were merely a product of his dream world. The first thing Stiles does when his eyes open, is reach out and touch the exact place on Derek’s arm that he had within the dream. His face holds that same horrified look and Derek wonders if he’s looking for blood. It’s too much to be coincidence. If Derek has learned anything in his life it’s that if it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it is a freaking duck. In that moment he is sure, that dream or not something more had just happened. Eyes wide he can feel the air hitch in his throat. His skin radiates heat. He can feel it pouring out and echoing back at him everywhere his body touches Stiles.

 

Shaking fingers coil around his arms. Instinct takes over and Derek wraps his free arm around Stiles' shoulders. Though he can hear his own heart beat in his ears, Stiles’ is louder. It sounds like it might break through the fragile body that holds it. Then Derek wonders if the human is really as breakable as he had thought all along. The tattoos glowing in the morning light seem to say other wise. It doesn’t make the drive to protect him any quieter. The same drive that has been there longer than he would ever admit out loud.

 

They stay like that for a while before either of them offer to move or speak. True to form, it’s Stiles that breaks the silence. “I think I did this to us, put us here. I don’t know how b-b-buh-but I-… It had to be me,” his words are shaking and Derek simply holds him a little tighter, lost in the way their bodies curve together perfectly.

 

“You don’t know that,” though after their shared dream he suspects Stiles is right. Their thrumming heart beats fill the room in a way that makes Derek’s ears ring. It’s all affecting him, making his head spin. They aren’t this close, this long, ever. Derek always finds an excuse to disappear, or something tries to kill them, and he can’t artfully avoid drawing in Stiles’ scent until his lungs are filled with it. Here though, there isn’t an easy escape, and he finds the longer he is this close, the more he wants it to last. “We don’t even know where we are.”

 

Something in his words breaks the trance-like state they have been under. Stiles sits up, the red glow having faded, causing Derek’s arm to slump to the bed. He doesn’t speak at first just watches Derek with his too intense honey brown eyes. The wolf can feel the pit of his stomach grow tense and he wonders if the whole feeling of the morning had been a farce, a projection of his own feelings because why should he think a weird dream would change anything.

 

Then Stiles still hasn’t let go of his hold on Derek’s arm. If anything it’s firmer now that he has stopped shaking. The skin to skin contact shouldn’t do this to Derek’s mind. He had excepted long ago that attraction was dangerous, and that it wasn’t even mutual attraction anyway. This is the kind of thing that got him into trouble. How was he leaving himself this vulnerable when his first relationship had turned out the way it had. It was stupid, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull back, to walk away.

 

He looks down and noticed Stiles did the same. “Hey that’s my dad’s! Why are you wearing it?” Stiles says, stuttered and broken sounding as he paws at Derek’s left hand. Instantly the wolf becomes defensive, curling his hand until it’s clenched and Stiles can’t pry at it any longer. Though even he wasn’t fast enough to keep the golden band from slipping forward on his finger enough to reveal a prominent tan line.

 

They both freeze and look up to meet the other’s gaze. It’s like time stands absolutely still and the only thing that speaks otherwise is their furiously beating hearts that tick away the seconds. It feels like his stomach is in his throat. There is an implication floating in the air so thick Derek is afraid he might choke on it. He doesn’t even want to move, and it’s not just fear that is locking down his muscles.

 

Derek let’s his eyes shift so he is looking at their hands. Their fingers are tangled together at an odd angle, grip so tight he can see the white pressure points under it. He starts taking in details, ones better left unnoticed, like how long and lean Stiles’ fingers are. His hands have gotten bigger since the last time Derek focused on them, or at least let himself be this close while he was focusing on them. Stiles’ hand also bears a gold band, and when Derek recognizes it, the wind is sent rushing from his lungs. It had been nearly a decade since he saw it last but he is just as sure that Stiles’ ring also once belonged to someone else, Derek’s father.

 

Derek’s focus doesn’t break as his jaw falls slack. His whole body is buzzing with an odd kind of energy. Running would be nice right now. Not running away, but letting his wolf free for a while so his mind can just exist, not think too actively. “What?” Stiles asks, and Derek has to fight to find the words.

 

“That was my father’s. I haven’t seen it since the fire.” It takes Stiles a moment to catch on as he stares, a confused look plastered on his face, but when he does he starts to fumble.

 

“Oh!” he says, voice cracking. “I suppose you want it back.” Now that the realization is setting in he isn’t pulling at the ring on Derek’s finger or even making a move to take his own off. A smell very close to deception clips at Derek’s nose, bitter and sharp. Regret? That’s enough to leave him puzzled. This new environment has him all turned around. It has left him feeling exposed, and perhaps a little more open than he would normally afford himself. More than that it’s bringing feelings to the surface he has become quite good at pushing down so low he doesn’t have to think about them. Crushes, love, and relationships are not in his vocabulary. Derek doesn’t pine. Things like that, well they cause problems. Trusting someone enough to give them a piece of his heart is what got his family killed. It’s why he’s alone, and as long as he is he can’t get anyone hurt -including himself-. Solitude is something that he has chosen, but this closeness is making it feel more like loneliness.

 

“It’s okay,” he pauses, words catching in his throat. “I like seeing it again… I like seeing it on you.” He glaces up to see a wide-eyed expression across Stiles’ face, and the start of a pale blush on his cheeks. They are again locked in a silence that isn’t really awkward. Derek doesn’t want to speak, doesn’t want to move. All he hopes is that he never has to let go, but knows that it’s better to. If only because what they are doing is dangerous, treacherous, and falling, slipping under, giving in would be too easy.

 

Stiles’ heavy heart beat does strange things to Derek’s focus, making him feel like he is everything and yet nothing at the same time. It would be smart to get up, but he can’t. The fact that this is home, makes him feel reckless, like getting swept away in it might not be so bad. It isn’t safe, but then nothing safe is really worth the fight.

 

“Okay,” Stiles says while thumbing Derek’s fingers, effectively pushing the ring back down. “We should probably look around,” but he doesn’t make an effort to move. Derek wonders if there is an inconspicuous way to get Stiles back in his arms, but knows any attempt would be obvious. Instead he sits up and just looms in the space that had separated them. He can feel heat pouring off Stiles even without touching, and the drum of his heart has Derek’s bounding to match it.

 

A bright glow of red spirals slowly become visible on Stiles cheek bones, curling around his eyes. He is quivering a little. It takes Derek completely off guard when he makes a move, pushing his face into the curve of his neck. The shock is enough to send Derek falling back into the stack of pillows behind them. Stiles follows laying his head on Derek’s chest. They don’t move, don’t speak, like anything could break the moment.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

About an hour later, they are both shuffling through the contents of what must be their home office. It takes a while to cut through the mess to find anything useful. It doesn’t take long to figure out their about six years in the future. The dates on bills and other paperwork make that clear. Mostly it’s just normal stuff; power, water, taxes. After how much the supernatural aspect of his life has taken over since Laura died, Derek forgot that he might have to do those kinds of things again. In a file cabinet under the desk is what appear to be the most important documents, and in the very front he finds something that makes him gasp audibly.

 

“What?” Stiles leans forward, hand skating over his arm like it’s the most natural thing in the world, like this kind of touch happens all the time. The flutter in his heart beat is the only thing that tells Derek it effects him the same way. The rings had been a pretty obvious clue, but this was black and white proof. Angling the paper, Derek makes it so Stiles can see what he is holding, their marriage license. “We’re married,” Stiles all but stutters.

 

“And your real name is-” Derek starts.

 

“Don’t you dare! That’s privileged information,” Stiles barks, cutting him off. A hot red flush burns his cheeks. Derek can smell the way the embarrassment brings his normal scent to a boil. Stiles has always had an almost spice like odor, like cloves but with a sunny rich sweetness. It’s flooded Derek’s senses more than once. In the pool when Jackson, then a kanima, had kept them at bay for nearly three hours, it had been damp and faint, but clung to Derek for nearly a week afterward. Then there was when an Omega, who was far stronger than he should have been, attacked Stiles. Derek had carried him to Deaton, hoping with every fiber of his being that they would make it there before Stiles slipped through his grasp. Stiles’ essence had wrapped around Derek, and was the beacon that let Derek know with each step that he was still with him. It wasn’t a new feeling, hoping for Stiles safety, or even that losing him would kill Derek. He had known for a while just how much the hapless human meant to him. That didn’t mean he had ever so much as spoken one word of it, or let himself embrace it.

 

“Well apparently I’m privileged,” Derek says a small smirk playing at his lips. He has never been a fan of the nervous butterflies in his stomach. Part of him wishes he wasn’t so affected, but now in the heat of it he wouldn’t have it any other way. It had taken a while to admit it to himself, mostly because trust wasn’t something he did very well. That was part of the reason he kept it all to himself as well. Well that and fear of rejection. It wasn’t like Stiles was beating down his door for a date. Then if this weird situation has told him anything, it is that maybe, just maybe, Stiles has been holding back too. How else could the fact that they’re married be explained? It’s enough to start to break down walls built by fear in all it’s forms.

 

Derek looks back to see Stiles perched on top of one of the file cabinets chewing on his thumb now that he has gone back to digging through a drawer in front of him. His lanky legs are folded and pushed out at odd angles. Derek wonders not only how he’s that flexible, but how that could even be comfortable. He has stopped looking through the paperwork on the desk and he’s just staring at Stiles. It isn’t a choice, but a compulsion. The way his tongue flicks out licking his lips, or how his hands seem to dance over everything they touch, it’s mesmerizing, and Derek is entranced -which is not a magic thing, no it’s just a Stiles’ thing and he knows it-.

 

“Hale-Stilinski? Really? I guess I’m a hyphenate now.” Stiles mutters. The words serve as a reality check, shaking him back to active thought. Stiles is holding what looks like a bill of some kind up.

 

Curiously, Derek pulls out his wallet. In the clear sleeve toward the front is his driver’s license. Printed for all the world to see is ‘Derek Stilinski-Hale’. “Yeah, so am I,”

 

He pulls out the id and hands it over to Stiles. It’s then that something catches his eye. An age worn photo that had been hidden before. Derek is leaned against a fallen log, and Stiles is resting on his chest. In the background is a billowing bonfire, but it’s otherwise dark. They are looking at each other like nothing else matters. Both genuinely seem oblivious to the fact that anything existed let alone the camera. Derek pulls out the image and flips it over. Written in what is undeniably Stiles’ scrawl is ‘Our first official date - cause fighting for our life doesn’t count-’ and below is a date, one that’s only two weeks away from what Derek knows to be the present.

 

Derek hears the soft thud of Stiles jumping off his perch, but he still stares at the image. A hand is on each of his shoulders, drawing him backward as Stiles looks over his shoulder. He doesn’t say anything -though Derek knows he has seen both the image and writing-, he just rests his head there breathing slowly.

 

Heat spreads over his whole body, from the warmth of the breath at his neck to each spot that Stiles’ chest touches his back. He turns so they are face to face. The pieces are so quickly falling together. Though there are still so many holes in his vision of the future they are now in, of one thing he is sure. He has Stiles. How it happened though, is still profoundly perplexing.

 

Everything in him screams to kiss the man in front of him, but he opts to speak instead, which really, is such a bad choice. “So what now?”


	3. Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I continue to be amazed by the love from everyone. Thank you so much for the wonderful comments and leaving kudos. Again thank you Tink for being my beta, and loving Derek as much as I do. So in this one we are getting the first taste of the future outside of Derek and Stiles. I hope you all enjoy the odd pairings I choice, and in saying that I see how m/m centered this chapter is. Oh well YOLO.

‘Listen to your instinct.’ Stiles had heard Derek say it to Scott more than once over the years, and he decided that as far as this possible magic thing went it was the best advice he could follow. Settling on Scott he begin pouring a wealth of energy into the thought form. It was a conscious choice, but instead it boiled up from a pool in his gut as he let the course of action flow. It wasn’t an over the top display of sparks and fireworks, but he felt a pull, like a string tied around his waist drawing him forward. He thought to get in the jeep, but feared it would break the connection so he walked. Not ten minutes later he was standing in front of one of the homes in Beacon Hills that had remained standing since the early 1900’s. The Victorian charm with undeniable, but not really where he expected to find Scott. Actually he had half thought he would still be at the house he grew up in, like nothing had changed, that it was just some weird time warp in the Hale House. That was too much to ask for. 

Scott answered the door when he knock and lead him inside as normally as he had when living with his mom. Danny is in a recliner, laptop in hand, and a toddler running circles around him. “Ethan!” Scott snaps, and Stiles has to turn to look at him. Never once has he heard that much authority in his voice, and his eyes aren’t even red. “What did I tell you about bothering your father? Upstairs now! Go play in your room.” 

The boy stops in his tracks and looks up at Scott. “But dad! Uncle Stiles is here and he is always the most fun to-” Scott growls, and without another protest the child is scurrying up the stairs to the second floor. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” Danny says, smiling with dimples that look deep enough to cut all the way through his cheeks. He sets the computer to the side and catches Scott around the waist, pulling him down into the chair. 

Stiles feels like he should find they whole thing odd. The last he knew Scott was still pining after Allison, or trying to not pine over Allison and failing at it. Now he looks happy in a way Stiles hasn’t seen since they were kids. 

He rubs his jaw line with a rough hand. Honestly he feels a bit like a voyeur watching them. They seem so tangled in one another they hardly notice Stiles is even there. Which isn’t to unbelievable. Scott is the type to get wrapped up in his emotions, and apparently that’s the case in all his relationships. However it appears Danny is just as caught up in it as Scott. There is nothing to hold them apart, and while Stiles wondered how they got to this place he can’t help but be happy for his life long friend. 

Danny wraps his hard around the nap of Scott’s neck pulling him closer. Alpha or not Scott secedes to the demand and kisses him. It’s soft and slow, like a life time of love exists between them, like nothing else matters, and Stiles? He’s jealous. Not of Danny or Scott but of what they have. It makes the hollowness in his chest throb even when he has become quite good at blocking it out. He himself had traveled from one unrequited crush to another, or at least that’s what he thought until this morning. That moment in the office had done nothing but confuse him. How could it even be possible for Derek to think about him like that?

His best friend turns to him, expression shifting slightly to worry. It makes Stiles stomach go tight. Why should he look worried, is there a bigger issue that Stiles hasn’t see yet. “So I’m guessing you found something?” Stiles’ brows knit together in confusion. 

“Um no. Um I don’t think. I.. Well… I was hoping you could help me.” His words are tangled, he doesn’t know what Scott is talking about, but he hopes that his friend can help him figure it all out. 

“Help you? I mean you’re the expert here.” The worry is growing more intense with Stiles’ wavering words. He can feel stress building in his own stomach, and for the second time in two days he feels like he could vomit. 

“Expert? I don’t … What the hell makes you think that?” He is getting frustrated and can’t even begin to know where to explain what he has found out, or thinks is going on. Did something happen to Scott too or is this just future Scott being as confused as he is? His head feels like is might burst. 

Scott looks at him puzzled. For a moment Stiles feels like he might be over reacting, like there could be some logical answer just on the other side of that look. “Stiles are you feeling okay?”

“That’s what I was trying to tell you,” he says finding a calm ground again, no matter how long it lasts. “Derek and I. We… I think we traveled into the future or something.” After this morning it’s the only thing that makes sense. His heart rate picks up as he remembers just a few hours ago. Derek. It not fair that he is think about him like this again, not when for years he had been able to hide his school boy crush. Oh and that hovering too. It wasn’t fair. Derek should know the effect he has on people and not do that. Especially if he isn’t going to do anything about it. That way of thinking is exactly the opposite of helpful right now. Yet even the stomach flipping nervousness surrounding it seems to calm him, if only to making him more stressed in a totally different way. 

“Really? How far? What did you find out?” Scott asks, a little too excited, and effectively pulling him out of the dangerous train of thought. Stiles purses his lips as he thinks about the question. 

“No that’s not what I mean. This is the future, or at least it’s the future for me. The last thing I remember Derek and I were fighting and-” he is abruptly cut off. 

“You guys were fighting? You never fight! What happened?” Stiles in honestly surprised by the panic in his friend’s voice. He is now sitting straight up, and on the edge of the chair instead of in Danny’s lap. 

“We always fight, isn’t the beside the point?” cause really since when have he and Derek not had something to argue about. Okay maybe that’s not true, he was just still a little upset about no one wanting to go after the pack threating them. 

“Did you lose you memories or something?” Scott’s face goes tight and he turns to Danny. “Can harpies do that?”

“Not from what the bestiary said. They aren’t magical. Their more like wolves than anything.” Danny reaches over to his computer, possibly pulling up the page, but the screen is out of Stiles’ view. 

“Wait bestiary? You know about the bestiary?” Danny doesn’t even know about werewolves, or he didn’t or … something. This time travel thing is really starting to mess with Stiles’ head. 

“Uh yeah. I was the one that translated it.” Each word it slow and pointed. This earns about vastly confused face from Stiles. 

“Since when do you speak archaic Latin?”

“I don’t. It took a few hours but I found a program that’ll do it for you.” Danny is, at least, still more than capable of the ‘duh’ face, the ‘why are you even asking that isn’t the answer obvious’ one. It makes Stiles feel just a little less like he is in the twilight zone. 

“So if the harpies didn’t take Stiles memories. What could have?” Scott asks, coming back into the conversation, and clearly ignoring Stiles’ earlier explanation. 

“Oh my god! Are you even listening? No, I didn’t lose my memories. There was some wind fog and we woke up-” cuddling, no he decides to scratch that detail. “On a couch in the Hale house, but it’s all rebuilt, and I think Derek’s still living there.” He tries to play dumb, he isn’t ready to hear out loud what he has found to be true, maybe that too was but a part of the spell. It can’t be real right?

“You both do Stiles. You two are…” he stops looking back at Danny, before deciding not to say it. “What was the fight about? What was going on?”

“He wouldn’t listen to me about going after the wolves that nearly killed Lydia. None of you EVER listen to me.” He is starting to get mad again, he can’t help it. All this is unfamiliar and raising emotions too close to the surface. 

“You mean the rough pack that kidnapped her?” Scott’s inflection is strange, like he feels like he is wrong, or wants to be wrong.

“Yes. Unless you know of other werewolves that kidnapped her!” He can feel his cheeks growing hot, as he pours out a little too much emotion. 

“That was six years ago,” Scott says but doesn’t offer anything else.

“Yeah I know. I figured that out this morning when I found-” He stops, panicked as the confusion fades into nervous acceptance. “This is real isn’t it?” He looks down at his arms to see the red markings from this morning snaking down his arms and over his hands “And this what the hell is this?”

Scott opens his mouth, and it looks like he is at least going to try to explain, when a loud ringing cuts him off. Stiles pulls out the phone he forgot he had shoved him his pocket before leaving. The called id tells him it’s Scott’s mom. “Hey Melissa. Did you know I was with Scott or something?” He answers, joking like he aways does when he gets too uncomfortable. 

“No Stiles. It’s me.” The voice on the other end says. Even with the static he knows without doubt who it is.

“Dad?”

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It wasn’t hard to track down Isaac. It’s not like someone’s scent just up and changes. There was a faint trail of it leading out of the Hale house, and though it felt a little blood hound-esique, Derek followed it on foot up the street. Once he really starts focusing his sense of smell, he is surprised by how many familiar scents are strong around the house. Since they arrived Derek had been engulfed by how strong Stiles’ scent was there, but nearly every wolf, not to mention the humans connected to them, he knew seemed to be here in a more than occasional basis. Not just that but there were a good few he didn’t recognize.

After tracking up the streets of Beacon Hills he finds the house where Isaac’s scent seems to be the strongest. Not just that, but he can smell something else too. It’s sharp and strong with a hint of… smoke. Derek knows in an instant what that means. 

Without even knocking he is through the front door. He finds Peter sitting on a tan and leather couch in the living room. Knitted tightly to his chest is a sleeping mass of curls that can only be Isaac. Derek stares at the source of the mixed scent in the house putting two and two together. Peter follow Derek’s eye-line. “He didn’t sleep well last night. This whole mess is making the nightmares worse.”

“Mess?” Derek asks, because the only thing he can describe as a mess is the fact that he is in the future because of magic, but he and Stiles are the only ones that should know about that. 

“You know the one that Stiles and yourself aren’t dealing with?” he keeps his voice calm and low. Then Peter had always been double edged, and under the cool tone is a biting sass. 

Derek sits down next his uncle of the couch, trying to stifle the awkwardness. He doesn’t really know how to respond. In fact, he isn’t even really sure he should tell him that they woke up six years in the future and have no idea what’s going on. He hadn’t expected to run into Peter, and he is still having trouble dealing with him. Really he had just wanted to talk to Isaac, confirm suspension, and that was not the kind of opening up he was ready for with his uncle. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

“The harpies Derek! Please tell me the two of you aren’t completely ignoring it.” He is agitated, but the way his arms wrap around Isaac a little tight says something more. Could it be that he is worried for the beta’s safety as much as his own? 

“Is he your-” it’s a topic change Peter isn’t pleased with.

“Mate? Yes, come on Derek you already knew that,” but he didn’t. Maybe the Derek in this time does, but he really didn’t. He looked at the two of them sitting there together. Isaac twitching in his sleep, and Peter, well for the first time in Derek’s life, he looked happy. Not bubbling over the top, but it was there all the same. 

“I uuhh. I should go,” and without another word Derek is out the door. He runs as his feet hit the pavement of the sidewalk, heading to the house. His house, Stiles’ house. His brain is rushed with too much, because he knows. He has known for a long time now, but he can’t keep it under the surface any longer. 

Tossing his jacket on an empty chair he searches for a distraction. Anything to make the wheels in his mind stop turning. Derek is no sooner settled on the couch with one of the books on magic he found on an end table that Stiles is loudly bursting through the front door. “Derek?!?!” he shakes he head, some things will likely never change. He looks up over the top of the book as Stiles comes into the room. “I thought you were going to see Isaac. Why are you reading?” he seems a little caught off guard by Derek sudo-relaxed state. 

“I did, they didn’t know anything.” He thanks the stars for his well versed poker face. On the outside he is calm, if not a little stand offish. While inside he is screaming. Now that he is consciously aware of it, the space is too much. His mind keeps flashing back to this morning. Stiles’ hand on his should, the urge to kiss him, it’s all louder in his ear. 

“We need to talk,” Stiles says, and that’s always a good start to any promising conversation. Derek huffs a little and sets the book down. He can feel his gut sinking. “Wait you said they.”

“Isaac and Peter.”

“Peter was over at Isaac’s? That a little weird,” Derek would have thought so too if it wasn’t for one piece of knowledge. One he wasn’t ready to say out loud. That would require explanation, and that would lead to questions he didn’t want to answer. 

“Not really. They are… They’re together.” It’s the simplest answer he can give, and he hopes that an inquisitive Stiles doesn’t push farther. 

“Well no, I got that with the they…” his expression changes completely. “Oh my god! You mean together together?!”

“Yes,” Derek calm stance is in stark contrast to how Stiles is freaking out. Then inside Derek isn’t calm, though not for the same reason. 

He shakes his head “The sad thing is, this is the least of our worries.” Rubs his head “There are harpies. After me of all people and um……” Derek knows that, well not that they are after Stiles. That is a whole new issue he finds digging at his raw nervous.

“Go on Stiles spit it out,” he can feel the tension in his own voice. When Stiles goes speechless it’s rarely a good thing. 

“We are… We have twins.” Derek is silent as he processes and the lack of response drives Stiles onward “Daughters. We have twin daughters. We’re parents, and um… well I kind of promised my dad we would go over and have dinner as a family.”

“Where are they?”

“My dad? He still lives in the same house. I ask Scott and apparently so does Melis-” 

“Our daughter?!” Derek cuts him off with a sharp snap. Had they abandoned children they didn’t know about? Where they suppose to be caring for them? Had Derek once again failed his family? He is instantly on edge. All calm he had fained before gone. 

“They’re staying with my dad, we wanted them safe while we were preparing for when the harpies attack. They keep asking about us. I think they’re still really little.” Derek goes quite again, thinking and not total sure what his emotions are doing to him. “We don’t have to go, or you don’t if you don’t want to. I can make something up. To the dinner I mean.”

“No it’s fine.” He looks up eyes meet Stiles’. “I want to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I went there. Sterek babies! If you are still confused on the magic and harpies situation there is more explanation coming in the next chapter I promise so hang in there. I'm going to try and have a more timely gap in between this chapter and the next. So until next time je taime mi amor

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! Thanks for reading and I hope you have enjoyed it. I know at the very start of this all I introduced myself but I failed to mention that I am a gay trans man. That is a big reason why I feel so compelled to share queer stories with you all. I would like to take a moment to ask for your help. As of now, I am working towards my top surgury. Ig you feel you would like to donate the link is http://www.gofundme.com/d3b6p4
> 
> Please don't feel like you have to. If you would like to help in another way spread the word and my stories (or even just reach out to me on one of my social media links found and that beginning of the fic) and hey, thanks!


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